Stranger" Things Are Happening
by Rhine
Summary: Jules discovers an unconcious girl, though she's more than the disheveled figure she appears to be. Her mysterious past and identity can bring about a new future for everyone aboard the Aurora, if they can survive. Please R & R
1. Recognition

Author: Harlaquinne

Rating: PG-13

Summary: Jules' life is about to change with one trip on the sidewalk.

Disclaimer: Any character you recognize from the show is not mine, so don't sue!

Weeks cramped up in the Aurora's miniscule living space had made Jules extremely homesick for his carefree life in the gutters of Paris. Even his dark, secluded apartment held more appeal than another night pent up with the bickering cousins. Passepartout was even beginning to wear his nerves thin and though he meant well, incessantly following him around was quite annoying. Consequently, after Jules' and Phileas' last argument, Jules had returned to his one true love – Paris. 

Though the night air was nothing compared to what you could breathe in off the Aurora's bow, the familiar scents of smoke and mud didn't bother him in the least. Solid cobblestones beneath his feet were certainly an improvement compared to having practically nothing at all below him. A new script was spinning itself around in his thoughts when his concentration was broken as he passed the large building where he'd taken his law exams. He'd taken them at his father's insistence – and passed, but given up any hopes in a career at law when he'd taken the job at the Theatre Lyrique. The thought of his father's rage took over his thoughts and Jules scowled and continued on in a foul mood. The tone his father had taken with him about his career choice was the exact same tone Phileas had taken with him this afternoon. _How dare he?_ Jules fumed. _How dare Phileas treat me like a child as my father did?_ His thoughts returned to their afternoon quarrel.

_They'd been lounging around outside the Aurora, after landing, enjoying having their feet on solid ground when Phileas had approached him. "Jules," he'd begun,"British Intelligence has requested Rebecca's services as well as my own once again. Naturally, you'll be coming along, so shall we say you'll be aboard again in four hours? Or is three quite enough?"_

"Actually Phileas," Jules had replied,"I've the intention of working on my novel some, getting some peace and quiet back in Paris. Several prospective supporters have requested more of my writing and now that we've returned, I think it's high time I answered their requests."

"Prospective supporters, Verne? Those silly men devoting their lives to the, what is it you call them, the "fine arts." One thing I'd like to see instead of their dull plays is them making a penny off of them. Really, Verne, your future with British Intelligence is quite more prosperous than any career you might pursue as a writer. Besides, you're hardly one who can be left by himself." 

"Are you inferring I'm nothing but a risk to society that must be kept under a watchful eye? Your watchful eye may I add? That anything I want to pursue is pointless as long as it doesn't benefit you? Think of the cases I'd solve Fogg, with my inventions, think how many more successful case files would have your name signed at the bottom! But I suppose that's all your thinking of, isn't it? How I'd help you? I'd rather help myself Fogg, and I'll be continuing on with devoting myself to the fine arts. Perhaps I'll see you later when I'm nothing more than another of those silly men. And you won't be quite so successful then as you'd hoped, because you'll get no help from me or my inventions if you're going to refuse my right to choose!" Passepartout and Rebecca had stepped to the sidelines to watch the heated argument between what could possibly be the two most stubborn people in Europe. Fogg, pretending to be unfazed by Jules' outburst, raised his chin slightly higher in his superior manner. Jules, fuming, left the group in a furious haste.

Caught up in his troubles and complaints, Jules' attention was anywhere but the path ahead of him. Stumbling upon the figure before him, he fell to his knees and found himself staring down at the still body of a young woman. Her chest was moving slightly and he sighed with relief. In the dark, with her hair swept across her face, he couldn't get a clear look at her. Her breathing, though uneven, could be heard faintly and her skin looked pale in the faint illumination of the street lamp. Knowing all too well what lurked the streets of Paris in the early morning hours, Jules scooped her up in his arms. Though it was still quite a distance to his apartment, he had no worries for she was extremely light – lighter than she should have been.

Wishing for warmth and cursing himself for not having anything left to burn, Jules set the girl carefully down upon his bed and rubbed his hands together, blowing on them. Lighting a candle nearly burnt to a nub, he pried up a floor board from the corner and shoved it into the sturdy black stove. Within minutes, the wood began to glow and a faint heat began to fill the room. Still, his mysterious guest's skin was cold as ice and he shuddered at the thought of how long she'd lain there in the near freezing temperatures. Perched on a chair beside the bed, keeping watch, his mind began to wonder from the girl back to the argument. He continued to brood over it until a line from one of his father's letters came back to him. _I speak to you not as your father, but as an experienced adult. I give you the final gift of a point in the right direction and I can only hope you never venture off the correct path and have to face the horrors there. _He'd forgiven his father over time, knowing there was nothing but affection behind his pressuring into the law career. Though Fogg had a rather odd way of displaying it, Rebeccas and Passepartout were convinced that he cared for Jules, and this thought sat with him for a moment. Perhaps Phileas, like his father, was only trying to set him off on the right path, though he'd had a rather rude approach to giving advice. Perhap Phileas, like his father, deserved his forgiveness…

His thoughts were interrupted as the girl sat straight up in bed in a panic. Her head whipped around and her eyes locked on him in a stare of bewilderment and recognition. "Verne…" she whispered.

Want more? Please R & R


	2. With A Sniff, The Mystery Thickens

"Really Phileas," Rebecca remarked as Jules stalked off,"In the future, do try to be nicer to our geniuses, will you? They are rather important to national security, you know. It'd be nice to have them on our side." Passepartout suppressed a laugh at her sarcasm, he often enjoyed the cousins' interactions knowing his master, more often than not, lost to the unyielding Rebecca. 

"And if our geniuses prefer to throw their talent away on manuscripts and theatre? Are we to stand by and be civil?" Phileas retorted

"Monsieur Verne not throwing his talent away, Master. His writing quite good," Passepartout interjected.

"And maybe if you'd be a bit more attentive Fogg, you'd of noticed that," Rebecca admonished,"It doesn't take to much work to pay attention to your friend's passion. Probably less work than telling him off."

"Me is thinking Master might owe Monsieur Verne an apology," Passepartout commented cautiously.

"Is that what your thinking? That I ought to say I'm sorry for telling him writing's a waste of time? And what if it is?"

"You'll see in a couple of years Phileas just whether or not Jules was wasting his time. But I suppose if you refuse to apologize, you might not see Verne for a few years anyway." 

Frustrated with the way Passepartout and his cousin were teaming up against him, he crossed his arms defiantly. Though, with one more disapproving look from Rebecca and a guilt giving glance from his valet, he'd gone to gather his overcoat and depart for Paris. 

* * * * *

Her hair and fallen from her face and Verne could see her a bit more clearly now. "You, you, you know who I am?" he asked uncertainly.

"I can't be here, they'll only find me again, what am I to do then? You, Verne, they'll find you too," her eyes darted about the room as she spoke. As she was throwing off the blankets, the door to his apartment creaked open on its hinges. Jules, startled at what he'd just been told, panicked as the light from the hallway spilled into the room. The girl snatched at the heavy candlestick beside the bed and held it tightly in defence.

"Verne?" Phileas' voice carried through the dark, he was quite confused at the sight before him. Just then the candlestick came hurling across the room at Phileas. Jules, alarmed, grabbed the girl's arms and held her tightly.

"You have to let me go," she begged as she squirmed in his grasp,"They're going to come!"

"Verne? Verne? What in heaven's name is going on?" Phileas repeated,"Who is that?" Breaking free of his hold, she stumbled to the door, running into Fogg in the doorway. For an instant she stared up at him in fear, long enough for him to get a good look at her. Stunned, he didn't try to stop her as she lurched down the steps out onto the street.

"Verne," he said again, his tone much more subdued,"I know her."

* * * * *

"We've a brand new assignment and off he goes on a vacation to Paris, really Passepartout, I think Phileas is out of order," Rebecca mumbled as she stood beside the valet at the wheel of the Aurora.

"Miss Rebecca, was it not you telling Master to go to Paris?" Passepartout asked.

"Well of course it was me, but whether or not my cousin actually listens to me is his own choice," she replied curtly, determined to place the blame upon her cousin's shoulders.

"Yes, Miss Rebecca," he gave up the argument and returned to navigating the Aurora.

* * * * *

Forgetting his initial intent to apologize, Phileas was poised at the doorway in thought. Jules approached him from the far side of the chamber,"Who is she then? And what is it she's so afraid of?"

"I'm not sure Verne, but I know I've seen her somewhere before."

"She said I should be afraid also Fogg, what do you think she meant?"

"I haven't a clue, who knows what you may have brought in off the street or what madness she may have been babbling. There was something I recognized about her though."

"Do you smell that Fogg? A chemical of some sort," Jules interrupted, sniffing the air.

"Yes in fact, I do detect a scent of…," he inhaled deeply,"Something strange to be sure. But your right, it smells faintly of a chemical compound."

"I think I've found it…" Jules bent down to pick up the candlestick with a handkerchief,"It's the one she threw at you, the smell seems to be coming from it."

"It does indeed," remarked Phileas, as he examined it himself,"She must have had it on her hands unless you've been experimenting yourself."

"No, chemicals are a bit too volatile for me. The scent though, is faintly on my clothes as well, probably from when I carried her in."

"If she was simply a street rat, she wouldn't have had access to what I think I'm smelling. And the scent is familiar also, the face and now this smell." His brows furrowed as he racked his brains. "Jules, I think I remember from where I know these things. But, no, it certainly can't be…"


	3. Explanations In Part

"Can't be what, Fogg? Really, if you're going to take this long to tell me I might as well give chase and ask her myself," Verne said impatiently.

"I had a friend from college, a chemist named Pierre Dubois, who was always experimenting with one thing or another, nearly blew our lodgings to smitherines. After graduation, he was recruited to work on a highly secretive project, with details he couldn't disclose – even to me. What I do know is that the task before him was to create some sort of chemical capable of something."

"Some sort of chemical capable of something, fantastic. Phileas, where is this going?"

"The chemical, whatever it was, smelled like this," Phileas waved the candlestick beneath Jules' nose.

"Who recruited him then to create this? The government?"

"No, not the government. According to him, the government was the one trying to foil his plans. Whoever his sponsor was, they possessed a great deal of funds, for the tools he had at his disposal were amazing, things the like of which I'd never seen before. Though I'd never of confronted him with it, I long suspected that The League was behind it."

"Well what happened? Did he finish his work?"

"I can't be sure. Intelligence called me away on a mission and upon my return I found his apartment in shambles and Pierre himself missing – along with his work. I haven't seen or heard from him since, thought several years back I thought…"

"You thought what Fogg?"

Phileas paused, unsure of whether or not to disclose the information,"I thought I saw his name on an Intelligence file but my questions in regards to it received no response. I suppose I'd forgotten about him until now, until this scent."

"And the girl? Do you know why you remembered her?"

"It's not her, Verne, that I remember, it's her eyes. Blue eyes, unbelievably blue, eyes identical to Pierre's."

"You mean, they're related?"

"Verne, didn't you see her eyes? You can't tell me they were common and I wouldn't doubt that they appear only in the bloodline of the Dubois'."

"Then what do you suggest?"

"First we find the girl Verne, then we'll ask the questions." Verne nodded in agreement and snatched his coat from the peg as he followed Phileas out of the building. Jules' landlady was not pleased to find him hurrying down the stairs in a haste, and confronted him at the bottom.

"Really, what do you think I'm running here, a zoo? You and your crazy guests thumping up and down these steps at odd hours of the night. Don't you know other people live here too? Other people that require sleep!" Her complaints and scoldings continued as Verne and Fogg hurried past her out onto the street.

"Which way?" Verne asked unsure. 

Inhaling deeply, Fogg smiled and replied,"Just follow your nose." Verne's

landlady was still shrieking after him as they walked briskly to the left, and didn't let up until a large figure stepped in front of her, blocking the light of the lamp post. 

"Verne lives here?" the figure asked in a low, gruff tone.

"Another one of his friends are you? Strange crowd he surrounds himself with. Well I won't be playing butler for him tonight, you can find him yourself," she retorted, not the least bit phased by the stranger. Turning her back, she sauntered off towards her own door. A large hand clamped down on her shoulder, and the figure stepped closer, into the light in which she could see his face.

"Verne lives here," it repeated. Stricken with it's frightening appearance, the landlady stuttered a reply.

"Y-y-yes-s-s. S-s-second floor, f-first room o-on the left-t-t." Releasing her, the stranger started up the staircase as the landlady retreated quickly to her quarters, locking the door tightly behind her.

Who is this second stranger? For that matter, who is the first? Besides Phileas and Jules, who is else is after the girl? These questions and more answered in the next part, but please review!


	4. A Run-In

"Damn the breeze," Phileas cursed,"I've no clue as to where she's gone. You, Verne, smell anything?"

"Sorry Fogg, the wind's carried the scent away. How are we to find her now?"

"Use your other senses, do you hear anything?"

"No…," Jules points into the sky,"But Fogg, do you _see _that?" A large ship, similar in shape to the _Prometheus,_ was hovering just above the Paris skyline.

"I thought we destroyed that bloody thing," Phileas seethed.

"It's _not_ the Prometheus, Fogg. It's smaller than it should be," Verne commented.

"Whatever it is, it means one thing. We're not the only ones out on the street tonight, Verne, the League, it seems, is going to keep us company."

*****

"Miss Rebecca, you seeing this?" Passepartout gestured out into the night air. Glancing up from her work, Rebecca scrutinized the shape in front of them, recognizing it at once.

"It's like a worm, you chop off one end but the other keeps on squirming," Rebecca commented.

"What is you saying, Miss Rebecca?"

"I'm saying Passepartout, that there are two halves to The League of Darkness. Though Phileas managed to destroy Count Gregory's half, as well as Count Gregory himself, there is yet another half to be dealt with."

"Me is thinking that this ship being here, over Paris, where Monsieur Verne is, is not coincidence."

"I agree with you Passepartout, it's not a coincidence, nor is it a good sign. We should locate Verne and my cousin at once."

*****

As Phileas and Jules turned the corner into an alleyway, what they'd been looking for ran straight into them, literally. She held tightly to his Verne's arms for support, as her legs gave way beneath her. "Please," she whispered, fading into unconciousness,"Please don't let them find me." Once more, Verne scooped her up in his arms, as her head lolled back and her eyes closed. Further down the alleyway, a rustling could be heard. The sound of heavy footsteps on the cobblestone reached them, and Verne glanced nervously from the girl in his arms to Phileas. Whatever lurked in the alley was approaching rapidly and Phileas grabbed Verne's arm, pulling him away from the alley as a dart flew past them.

"The League," Fogg whispered harshly, alarmed at their presence,"Verne, I think it's time to go." Jules quickly nodded as the girl shifted in his arms, but did not wake. 

"We'll be safe in my apartment."

Gesturing further down the street to the window in which a light blazed, Phileas pointed,"Verne, isn't _that _your apartment?" As they watched, a man stepped in front of the window and smashed the glass. Swallowing hard, Jules nodded.

"Nevermind then."

"Don't worry, it seems the cavalry has arrived." Beside the _Prometheus_ like ship, the faint outline of the _Aurora_ was visible. As Phileas spoke, another dart flew past them, and they pressed themselves up against the walls in the doorway of a building. 

All was silent after that, until Phileas' harsh whisper,"Run." Following his advice, Jules fled down the street, his feet banging against the cobblestones as the door beside which they'd been standing flew from it's hinges. "Head for the _Auror_…" Phileas' voice came again through the commotion, though he was interrupted as a gun shot rang out through the night. 


	5. Reluctant Abandonment

"Is Miss Rebecca hearing that?" Passepartout asked urgently as the gun shot sounded. 

"I don't think that's a coincidence either, Passepartout," Rebecca replied,"Any sign of Jules or Phileas yet?

"No, I am not seeing them, and I am not thinking this is good," the valet said worriedly.

"I'm thinking the same thing."

******

The bullet ripped through the night air with alarming speed, but luckily, not alarming accuracy, for it only grazed Phileas' leg below the knee. Fogg cursed through clenched teeth, grimacing down at the wound, now bleeding freely. Verne, further down the street, turned abruptly at the sound of the gunshot and Fogg's cursing. The moment he took one step towards him, Phileas turned his harsh words to him. "Dammit Verne, get to the Aurora. If the League is after you or the girl, or both, we're not about to make this easy for them!" Frozen in indecision, Verne hesitated, even as Phileas drew his pistol and targeted their pursuers. As several of Fogg's bullets hit their mark, Phileas turned the pistol to Verne and pulled back the hammer. "Go," he seethed, battling the insuing pain,"Now." At this threat, Verne turned his back on his crippled friend reluctantly, and took off running down the street once more. Looking behind him as he reached the corner, the last thing Jules saw before turning down the dark street was Fogg, kneeling defiantly, gun raised, firing into the encroaching shadows – he could only hope it was not the last he would see of his friend.

******

"Passepartout, lower the ladder," Rebecca commanded.

"Why is we doing this?" he asked as he pulled the lever uncertainly.

"See that figure running down there?" she gestured down into the sleeping city,"He's going to be needing a way up."

"That," Passepartout said excitedly,"That is Monsieur Verne!"

"Correct," she said, putting her hand on the valet's shoulder and staring down at the rapidly approaching Verne,"But Passepartout, what is that he's carrying?"

"I is not knowing Miss Rebecca, but where is Master Fogg?"

"As if I ever know where my cousin is," she laughed nervously.

******

Out of breath, but determined, Verne continued through the pitch black streets, focused on the ladder now descending from the balloon. He stopped short as he entered into a moonlit alleyway and saw the trail before him – the dark red trail. "Blood," he panicked,"Not a good omen. Though, Phileas, he couldn't of made it this far, not with his wound."

Out of the dark came another voice,"Not unless, of course, someone 'helped' him along the way…"


	6. A Blast From The Past

"Who said that?" Verne called out cautiously, looking suspiciously into the shadows,"What do you mean?"

"I'm alright Jules," a voice finally answered – Phileas'.

"Fogg? Who's there with you?"

"An old friend," he replied, limping from the shadows,"Verne, meet Pierre Dubois." Another figure emerged from the darkness, his face horribly scarred.

"Th-the chemist?" Verne asked.

"What used to be the chemist," Dubois rasped, his voice low and haggard.

"Fogg, didn't you say you suspected his involvement with…" Jules asked Phileas, unsure of what to think, eyeing Pierre nervously.

"The League?" Dubois answered before Phileas could,"I was in it for the money, for the power. Now, I'm out for revenge against it, after what they did." Dubois paused slightly, but spoke no further and Jules was left to ponder Pierre's reasons for vengeance. 

"Don't worry Verne, he's loyal. And if not…" Fogg merely patted the pistol at his side. Dubois looked to the ground in shame, though his head snapped up suddenly.

"They're close."

"Let's go then, the _Aurora_ isn't much further off. Verne, give me a hand here."

"Let me carry the girl," Dubois spoke in lowered tones. Jules looked at him hesitantly, and turned to Fogg, unwilling to let the girl fall into the hands of someone from the League.

"Verne, let him have her," Fogg commanded, as if he knew something Jules did not. Reluctantly, Verne watched as Dubois took the girl from his arms. Still watching Pierre cautiously, Jules slipped his arm around Phileas to support him as they made their way, best they could, to the dangling ladder of the _Aurora_.

Before Phileas could even get a firm grip on the rope, the city square over which the _Aurora_ floated, was infested with minions of the League. From the right, emerging from the left, flooding out from above, they encroached upon the small group in the middle, smiling menacingly, hands outstretched. Releasing the ladder, Phileas thrust it at Verne. "Pierre, give him the girl. Verne, get up the ladder with her." Pierre deposited the girl back into Verne's arms, giving her one last sorrowful look.

"But Fogg, you're injured," Verne argued, reaching for the pistol.

"Yes, but I've got better aim," Fogg replied sharply,"Don't make me threaten you again, get up now!" Verne began to scale the rope ladder leading upwards, the girl held securely with one arm, the other gripping the rungs. All the while as he climbed, he watched the confrontation below.

******

"Dammit, Passepartout, I'm going down. My cousin seems to have gotten himself into another impossible situation," Rebecca called out, heading for the open hatch. A sudden shock shook the balloon, throwing her to the floor. "Passepartout! What was that?!"

"I is not knowing Miss Rebecca," Passepartout replied, frightened, trying to regain control of the balloon. Despite his efforts, the balloon shook again. "It is the other ship Miss Rebecca, they are firing!"

"As if it wasn't bad enough already!" she cried, exasperated,"Listen Passepartout, here's the plan, follow it explicitly: don't, get, hit." With that, she descended down the ladder, up which Verne was already climbing.

Passepartout, at the wheel, sighed frustrated. "Don't get hit," he mimicked, "Excellent plan." His sarcasm was cut short as the other ship fired on them again.

"The plan, Passepartout, the plan!" Rebecca called up from the hatch. Rolling his eyes, he returned to steering, a difficult task considering the League was trying to knock them from the air.


	7. Explosive New Developments

Verne struggled to climb higher as the ladder swung in the wind, and was whipped around as the balloon shook. Twenty feet above the ground, the girl began to awaken, and wrapped her arms tightly around Verne's neck in fear. She too watched the confrontation below, surveying the scene in horror. A sudden jolt hit the ladder and the balloon dropped suddenly and briefly. Verne found himself dangerously close to the people below, the end of the ladder within jumping distance from the ground. 

Fogg fought off several of the attackers, some with a bullets, though as those ran out, the butt of his gun proved an efficient weapon. To his left stood Dubois, fighting off the League's minions as they jumped at him viciously. Freeing himself from their grasp as more began to pour into the courtyard, Pierre turned to Fogg.

"Phileas," he called,"You should go now." He motioned to the dangling ladder.

"You should come now as well, they'll overwhelm you within minutes."

"No Fogg, it's time for _you_ to go. I can take care of them." Phileas stared at his friend in wonderment, searching for the face he used to know. Nothing about him resembled the old Pierre Dubois, even his bright blue eyes had lost their shine. His face was contorted and twisted, and held too much pain.

"I can't just leave you here with them," Phileas protested.

"Yes you can," Dubois replied and struck Phileas over the head with the pistol. Snagging the ladder as it hung overhead, Pierre tied his friend to it, as the balloon began to climb.

In Jules' arms the girl cried out as she looked at the figure below. Verne glanced down to see what had frightened her so. Pierre Dubois, scarred and forlorn looked up longingly, and blew a kiss in the girl's direction. Reaching into his cloak, he produced a vile and threw it to the ground – instantaneous explosion. Crying out, she buried her head in his shoulder and sobbed. One word reached Jules' ears,"Papa." 

Rebecca soon reached them, as the balloon climbed higher and the ladder began to retract. Handing the sobbing girl to Rebecca, Jules descended down the ladder to where Phileas hung unconscious. Heaving him upwards, Verne did his best to untie the knots Pierre had spent him last moments on earth tying. His nimble fingers soon finished the work, just as the last of the ladder was being pulled in. Sliding Phileas through the hatch, Verne followed, closing it behind him and breathing a sigh of relief of being safely aboard. His feeling of calm was shattered though as another shot rocked the ship. Racing in to join Passepartout at the wheel, leaving Fogg unconscious on the floor, Verne tried his best to help the valet steer the _Aurora_ above and beyond the projectiles the League's ship was launching. Once the balloon ventured high enough to where the other ship's helicopter blades couldn't maintain a steady altitude, Jules once again breathed a sigh of relief, patting Passepartout on the back. The valet, with sweat rolling down his face, continued his muttering,"Don't get it, just don't get hit, simply enough? Oh yes very simple, just don't get it, she tells me, that's the plan, don't get hit…"

Finding Fogg still sprawled upon the floor, Verne dragged him into an armchair and left him there to inquire about the girl's status. Knocking softly on Rebecca's bedroom door, it opened slowly to reveal Rebecca tending to their now asleep guest. "How's the girl?" he asked softly. Rebecca turned at the sound of her voice.

"She's fine, or atleast appears to be for now. You know she's not a girl Jules, but a young woman." For the first time since he'd first come across her, he was able to look at her, in full light, hair swept back from her face. He could hardly believe the one he'd been carrying around all night was the one lying before him. Amused at his bewilderment, Rebecca laughed slightly. "By chance, would you know where my cousin was?" she asked.

"I left him in the armchair, Dubois must have hit him pretty hard, he's still out cold."

"Dubois?"

"I imagine Phileas will tell you all about when he wakes up."

"Talking about me like I'm not here again, are you?" Phileas called as he limped down the hall, leaning heavily against the wall for support.

"Oh Phileas, up and around again are we? Welcome back to the land of the living," Rebecca said,"What on earth happened to your leg?"

"Nevermind that now, the girl, is she aboard?"

"Yes," Verne answered from the doorway,"She's asleep in here."

"Well then Verne, would you mind watching over her while I talk to Rebecca? There are matters we need to discuss." Knowing the secretive cousins topics of discussion were for their ears only, Verne returned to his watch over the sleeping beauty. She was indeed a beauty, with long golden locks, though from the night's adventures, they were matted with bits of mud. Verne found himself quite entranced with her, and began to drift off as he gazed down at her.

What will happen when she wakes up? Just who is the League after? What did Dubois do in his time with the League? What matters are Phileas and Rebecca discussing? Review if you want more!


End file.
